


That Which Is Lost

by Caffiend



Category: Avengers, Captain America, Loki Fandom, Steve Roger fandom, Thor (Movies), marvel ambiguous fandom, marvel movies
Genre: BDSM, Betrayal, Bondage, Dark!Steve, Dom/sub, F/M, Infinty Stones, Loki Does What He Wants, Lust, Orphan - Freeform, Reckless Steve Rogers, Rough Sex, Scary Steve Rogers, Time Travel, Time traveller, True Love, Vigilante Justice, Voice Kink, bending time, loki is an asshole, romantic sex, sliding through time, the tesseract - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2020-10-04 15:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiend/pseuds/Caffiend
Summary: In which Traveller, who ekes out a living by traveling through time to bring back that which is lost, discovers that a reckless and desperate Captain America is sending out ripples that are shredding the fabric of Time through his use of the Infinity Stones. Steve Rogers may not understand what he’s doing, but the Traveller does, as well as Loki, the God of Mischief and Lies. The question is, why is the former Avenger doing this, and who can stop him before he tears Time and Space apart?





	1. "There's no Need for That Kind of Talk"

**Author's Note:**

> Due to an overzealous self-appointed moral arbiter, I have changed all my stories to "Author chooses not to use archive warnings," because I refuse to label my stories - incorrectly - as rape. There are moments of dub-con and I will do my best to tag effectively and issue specific chapter warnings if I feel they might be triggering. To the anonymous "reporters" who continue to harass writers in our community, I hope you become better people and learn to govern your own lives instead of attempting to control everyone else's.
> 
> Thank you as always for reading.
> 
> Here’s a very short beginning to my Dark!Steve, Delicious Loki story of Traveller, a girl who is ripped out of her slipstream over and over by the reckless use of the Infinity Stones. Who is using them, and how can she stop the stupid, reckless son of a bitch before he accidentally tears her to pieces?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a very short beginning to my Dark!Steve, Delicious Loki story of Traveller, a girl who is ripped out of her slipstream over and over by the reckless use of the Infinity Stones. Who is using them, and how can she stop the stupid, reckless son of a bitch before he accidentally tears her to pieces?

It’s not like every Slide was the same.

  
Sometimes, it felt like you’d battled every grasping, anonymous hand (Limb? Claw? Appendage?) from here to the Sallow Slipstream, but you always made it back to the point in time you’d visualized.

  
The vision was key, after all. How the place looked, what everyone was wearing, was the grass green, or was there snow on the ground? Did it smell like flowers, or dinner, or death? But this time, your careful calculations were blown clean out of the water by some Big, Hurtful, Careless Thing that sent you spinning viciously like you’d been slammed into a brick wall. Getting up shakily and balancing on your hands and knees, you vomited as you felt the wet trickle of what you feared was blood coming from your left ear and dripping down your neck.

  
“Son of a bitch!” you managed between heaving, “Someone jacked my Slide!”

Ironically, the first person who passed your field of vision was the one you’d most likely suspect for such a total asshole move, Loki - the Prince of Darkness - as you called him. But the Asgardian dickhead paused for only a moment to rip off some ugly-looking metal mouth guard that looked like a retainer designed by Satan. He looked down on you, shaking uncontrollably and just barely keeping yourself from pitching face-first into a pool of your own sick and… well, he sneered. Not surprising given that it was Loki, Douchebag of the Nine Realms and probably also a bunch of Realms beyond this universe, but it was still infuriating when you were minding your own goddamn business when-

“Do not soil my boots, Ekorn,” Loki snarled, stepping impatiently over you as his long, elegant fingers flicked open a new portal, gleaming gold around the edges but dripping pitch black and screaming of a destination created from Poor Life Choices.

  
You still managed to spit out the rest of the disgusting taste in your mouth and glared up at him contemptuously, “Scamper off, Blue Boy.” It was hard to appear to be looking down on a seven-foot-tall God when you were wobbling on your hands and knees, but you made it look realistic, “I’m sure you’re late for irritating someone else.”

Those beautiful emerald eyes briefly flashed red in warning as he stepped back into his Slide, but Loki was gone as you rolled over, still shaking uncontrollably and attempting to stop the dry-heaving that was completely killing your Slide cred. If it wasn’t Loki - and it clearly wasn’t, he was as surprised to see you as you’d been to see that gorgeous bastard - then who jacked you? Who the fuck would have that kind of power to-

“I’m so sorry, miss, are you all right?”

You laughed as you managed to sit upright, dragging a trembling hand over your forehead. “You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me. Captain Fucking America?”

The beautiful blue eyes gazing down on you clouded. “There’s no need for that kind of talk.” With a blinding flash of light that sent black spots through your vision, Steve Fucking Rogers was gone again, still holding a dead body and a jewel that you were 90% certain was the Space Stone.

An Infinity Stone. The Avengers had an Infinity Stone and you were certain that not only did it just fuck up your Slide, it likely fucked up someone’s past, present, and future, without the slightest concept of the ripples the action sent through the rest of the time stream. Feeling the cycling sense of heat that meant your Slide was regenerating, you spat out a mouthful of blood and chuckled nastily.

“Amateurs.”

Ekorn - Norwegian for squirrel


	2. You Star-Spangled Son of a Bitch!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Traveller gets up, dusts off, conducts some business. And then gets her ass kicked mid-Slide. Again. Because some superheroes are assholes like that.

This time, your Slide finished smoothly and you even had a chance to wipe the blood and disgusting remnants of vomit off your face in a convenience store bathroom. After dabbing ineffectually at your crusty sweater, you gave it up for a lost cause and threw it in the trash. "That was 100% cashmere, thank you very much, Captain fucking America!" you hissed under your breath. Seriously, you were tempted to send him a bill, but the whole scenario of an Avenger clomping through the delicate strands of time travel was so alarming that you knew you'd have to do some nosing around first. In the meantime, you had a client to visit. 

Striding into the all-glass executive office space like you owned it, you looked down your nose at the receptionist."Will you please let Mr. Tilly know I'm here?"

Her red lipstick grimace stretched across her botox-taut face. "Name please?" The receptionist's tone was poisonously sweet.

_The same name I've given you for the last sixteen visits, Barbie..._ was what you thought, but you leaned closer, hands planted on her desk. “I’m his unscheduled…" You consulted your Apple smartwatch, ironically the only modern gizmo you'd ever found that didn’t instantly short out the second you started a Slide. “I’m his unscheduled 5:15pm.” Tilting your head and smiling adorably, you enjoyed her seething frustration for just a moment until the inner office door opened.

“Why the hell are you just standing around out here?” Tillotson - only you called him Tilly - was scowling at you both.

"Just shooting the breeze with your super hot secretary, Tilly." You gave her another flutter of the lashes and a meaningful leer, just enough to make the blonde unconsciously check her neckline in the classic, _wait, is she into me? _kind of twitch. “See you later, sweetheart,” you simpered and followed the man into his obnoxiously glassed-in corner office. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like the fluffiest fish in one big-ass fishtank, Tilly?”

He smoothed his spiral curls back into the vicious grip of his hair gel. “Do you have the will or not?” Tillotson settled himself back in his office chair, attempting to look at you menacingly. “And stop flirting with my secretary, that’s sexual harassment even if you are a chick.”

You concealed a shudder. One of your Slides had gone very slightly off base and instead of landing in the hallway just outside his office, you’d ended up painfully wrapped around the air conditioner duct in Tilly’s ceiling, forced to watch the entire hideous performance of the man briskly banging Angry Secretary Barbie on his desk, waiting for the (blessedly) quick finish so you wouldn’t be discovered. 

“Seriously, Tilly what if you have to scratch your butt or something?” You gestured to the huge expanse of glass cubicles lining the rest of the office building’s floor, “All 75 of your employees knowing the big boss has hemorrhoids?”

Tilly was staring at you with exasperation. “Why are you like this? Why hasn’t someone murdered you for being so goddamned irritating?”

You shrugged modestly. “Most people enjoy my artless charm.”

Rubbing his forehead, he sighed, “Tangata, just tell me you have the paperwork?”

“All you had to do was ask,” you sulked. Pulling a folder from what appeared to be your boot, you placed it in front of him.

Tilly carefully unrolled the contents, spreading out the papers reverently. “They better not be torn. Ragged wills look extremely suspect.” 

You’d been staring out at the rows upon rows of desks, absently calculating the likelihood of how many employees would move their spinny office chairs to the right or left. Basic probability would favor to the right by 73% so…

“Tangata!”

Your distracted gaze moved back to him. “Hmmmm?” You hummed inquiringly, still focused on why your projection turned out to be off by 3% when one of the employees spun left, then right. Well, factoring in the dual ratio of one variant, that only changed the probability numbers by…

“TANGATA!”

“WHAT?” You hated being yelled at.

“Is this the complete document? Any pages missing?”

Putting your booted feet up on Tully’s desk, you nodded. “All 336 pages of it. I’m warning you, you’re not going to like codicil three on page 197.”

“Codicil thr-“ He was rapidly flipping through the yellowed pages. “Shit. The cousin.”

“Yeah.” You were picking at your cuticles. “That knocks down your client’s take by what? Only 27.9 million, so it’s not like he can’t still afford cut flowers and dinners out.”

Tilly sighed, “He hates the cousin. Apparently she’s a gun nut. Huge fan of the NRA.” He fixed you with his sternest gaze. “Are you sure there isn’t another will that post-dates this one? You’re absolutely sure?”

You hated being questioned like this. Absolutely _hated_ it. You were never fucking wrong. "Am I ever fucking wrong, Tilly?"

"No," he agreed sullenly, opening one of the ridiculous clear glass drawers in his clear glass desk and handing you an envelope. "Why don't you just have me transfer your fee to some offshore bank account, like everyone else insists on?"

It was because you loved the tactile sense of money. Running your thumb over the edges like a deck of cards. The soothing little "whrrrr" sound it made when you counted it. It was comforting. But you weren't going to tell the irritable, perspiring man that. "So, anyway... you know how to reach me," you were standing now, eager to get moving. Getting knocked out of your Slide by that idiot with the shield was starting to hurt. Like, all of you hurt. "Lemme know if anything needs finding."

Tilly was busy flipping through the will by then, and he gave you a dismissive grunt. ‘And people keep telling me I have no social skills?’ you thought irritably as you showed yourself out. With a huge and comforting chunk of money in your pocket, you could have easily skipped across the street to the Plaza Hotel and selected a vulgarly large suite, but you were in worse shape than you wanted to admit, even to yourself. You wanted to go home. So you twirled lightly in a circle, calculating the tide, the air pressure, the likelihood of traffic on a Tuesday and thought of the wonderfully fragrant bouquet of lilies you’d left on your bedside table. The circumference of the mattress and- 

You were Sliding, the blur of color and glorious speed, the harmonics so unique to your planet - Midgard, everyone else called it - and you were so looking forward to going home. 

“AH! GODDAMNIT THAT HURTS!”

It was Captain fucking America again and the star spangled son of a bitch ripped you out of the slipstream like it was the easiest thing in the world. Which when you were some mutant super-enhanced pile of testosterone, it probably was. His gigantic hand - Jesus, it was the size of a canned ham! - was wrapped around your neck and when you instantly tried to re-enter your slide, he lifted you up briefly and slammed you down again.

“Don’t you dare fucking move,” he snarled. “I don’t want to hurt you but I will.”

You stilled instantly, green eyes wide. It was Steve Rogers but... not? His handsome face was covered with a dark beard this time, blonde hair longer and his eyes... still blue but cold. Like dry ice cold and ready to burn the skin right off you with his glare. “You already hurt me!” you finally said. “Seriously, learn Slide Etiquette, won’t you? Because- OW! Will you STOP that?” Rogers had lifted you up and slammed you back down again.

Now that gargantuan paw of his closed around your throat, casually tightening as Captain fucking America, the good guy to end all good guys, started strangling the life out of you. “When I tell you to do something, you do it.” He put his beautiful, perfectly structured face right next to your beet-red one. “Do you understand me? I don’t tolerate sassy little girls. You’re going to beg me to let you be a good girl by the time I’m done with you.”

“He tucks to the left...” was the thought that drifted through your oxygen-starved brain and you altered the trajectory of your knee by two and a half inches, nailing America’s Finest right in his rather considerable package and as he doubled forward, your elbow was slamming into that exquisitely proportioned nose with a deeply satisfying crunch. A violent electrical surge went through you as he slammed a meaty forearm down on your leg, snapping it as you screamed in a pitch that could shatter glass. But his grip was just loose enough that you could twist free and throw yourself into your Slide, your body elongating impossibly far and then snapping back like a rubber band, taking you away from the scary, huge guy that you thought was supposed to be an Avenger. A hero. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sure, Steve tried to strangle our girl. Sure, Loki stepped over her wounded body like she was road kill. Tangata’s still going to be riding one of them like a jockey at the Kentucky Derby in the next chapter. I think I we can all agree on that as a wise plot choice.
> 
> Also, the next chapter of “Everyone has a vice, Pine” will be up tomorrow. Thank you for your patience!


	3. The 'V' Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroine sort of collides with another Traveller. Then there's tentacles - though I absolutely promise not the kind you're thinking about - multi-head showers, and then that whole reference about the Kentucky Derby comes into play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darling misreall has started another story in her gratuitously sexy "Incubus Loki" series: "A Jinx By Any Other Name." Find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20498636
> 
> By the way, it occurs to me that I've never thanked the Evil Genius of the writers who got me into Dark!Steve:  
Uglywombat's "I Brought a Lemon to a Knife Fight" one of many of her tasty Dark!Steve tales: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651340
> 
> And the truly amazing VisenyaT with "All of Heaven in a Rage" https://archiveofourown.org/works/18035789
> 
> You are in for many hours of fanning your flushed and blushing face with these two...

It was the first time in years where you were well and truly terrified.

The Slide sent you into a vicious spiral, tumbling you one direction and then the other like you were jammed in God’s spin cycle. If you couldn’t get your shit back together you could end up halfway across the universe and finding your various molecules wedged inside a brick wall. Your broken leg was excruciating, and the desperate calculations in your racing brain kept fuzzing out. 

“Th- thirty- fuck! Thirty s-six miles to the north of- wait, it’s th…” gritting your teeth, you tried not to vomit as the multi-colored streams of time mist stretched ominously. “Too long, fuck! Too long to shorten, too-“

You were suddenly pulled out of your free fall and vaguely registered the comforting strength of arms around you before your eyes rolled back and you were out.

Reluctantly returning to consciousness, you realized you were in a huge, marble bath. The water was warm and you could feel a hard chest breathing behind you, moving your own heart somehow in the same rhythm. Your head was drooping on Loki’s naked shoulder. It took a minute to realize it was the God of Lies who was holding you up in the water. You set to puzzling why this felt so inexpressibly comforting. 

“Finally awake, Ekhorn.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you wanted to pull loose from his grip but everything hurt.

Long, pale fingers stroked along your thigh. “Your femur is broken. Shattered, actually. I believe a rib or two are cracked. How is it possible that your Slides are getting worse? You were terrible to begin with.”

“Lying sack of sh-shit,” groaning, a slight shift told you Loki was likely correct about the ribs, “I kick your skinny Asgardian ass when it comes to Travel. I got jacked on a Slide. Twice.”

Lifting you from the water and placing your battered self on a wonderfully soft and squishy bed, he’d healed your broken leg without comment, other than one word. “Rogers?” The word was spat with contempt and you just nodded, too tired to lie. Loki always knew, anyway. “Shhhh...” he crooned. “Sleep now. You’ll be back to your inexpressibly petulant self in the morning.”

You thought about flipping him off but it felt like too much effort so you decided to pass out instead.

“How the fuck did she get away from me again?” Steve Rogers was busy grinding his even white teeth into powder as he shoved the Time Stone back into its case. Running his hand through his blond hair made him even more irritated. “This long shit,” he growled, “can’t even get a decent haircut on the run.” Walking bent over slightly, he peeled off his leather harness as he looked in the mirror. His dick was still recovering, but his broken nose had healed itself. Crooked. Rebreaking it with a hiss, the former Avenger waited for his bones to knit back together properly. “Next time I’m chaining her to a goddamn wall!” Thinking about her ass, so shapely in those tight leggings, Steve grinned. “Or a bed.”

"Wake up, Ekhorn, you need food..."

You moaned with exhaustion but sullenly opened your eyes, giving your amused savior a slitted-eyed glare. "Lemme just sleep for a minute, Loki! Jesus, you can even ruin a nap."

Loki was, of course, beautiful in a white linen shirt and shamelessly tight leather pants, dark, dark green and low on his hips. His thick hair poured down his back like an ebony waterfall, and- Oh, for fuck's sake, you really just thought the words 'ebony waterfall?' About Loki?

"You actually said the words, pet." His grin could not be more shameless. "And yes, my hair is that which every woman longs for."

"Knowing you," you jeered, shakily moving to a seated position, "you probably stole it right off some poor sap's head."

Running long, pale fingers through the dark strands, the God of Lies was unperturbed. "It's all mine. Much like you, little Ekhorn."

"I am not, you-" Shit. Looking around you, he did have a point. For whatever reason, Loki did save you from your freefall and pulled you from the Slide. He'd healed you and let you rest. Looking around the massive room, the soaring ceilings and exquisite paintings of daring and battle made you think of Asgard. But the howling, almost sideways-falling snow outside that multi-paned window told you that he'd stashed you elsewhere. "You've got a little vacation place here on... what, Niflheim?"

He actually shuddered, rising from the bed to take a tray off a nearby table and bringing it back to you. "Gods, no. Even I prefer somewhere more... balmy."

You snorted inelegantly. Of course, you knew Asgard's second prince was actually Jotunn. Like you gave a shit what color he was. You'd heard that it was some big dust-up at the time, his asshole dad Odin had hidden it from him? But you'd seen enough of the Nine Realms now to see it as simply one more marvel in a universe full of them. 

“I have difficulty picturing you lounging in the Virgin Islands, but whatever.”

“Virgin Islands,” Loki drawled as he seated himself next to you, offering you a tasty-looking bite of something from the tray loaded with food. “Is that a hint, darling?”

You laughed, almost choking to death on the exquisite cube of cheese you were attempting to swallow. “Seriously? It’s been long enough for me that it’s possible it’s grown back, but since I recall doing the hokey pokey with you on March 17, 2002, I’m no virgin.”

Loki actually paused, looking at you with a leering grin that nearly split his jaw. “Why, I’m touched that you remember it with such fondness, precious. Right to the very day.”

“Right,” you nodded indifferently, going for some tart thingy with tender strips of what looked like seasoned beef on the top, “memorable. Or just that I have an eidetic memory. Which is why I remember that hot bartender in Sydney on May 23, 2003. Or Gustaf- Vanaheim, was it? October 11, 2007. Then, there’s-”

Irritably waving one pale hand, Loki interrupted you. “There’s no need to recite the dates of your pitiful sex life, I assure you.”

“It is not,” you replied sullenly before cramming another one of the beef tart thingies in your mouth. Granted, your flings were few and far between, but even without the ability to retain the most minute data, you would never forget that night with Loki.

__________________

_March 17, 2002._

It started off on the usual overbearing, infuriating note that every interaction with the Prince of Lies included. You'd been sailing serenely down your Slide and back to New Zealand when you suddenly found yourself redirected to one of the Wandering Moons near Alfheim. You came nose to - well, sternum because this tall bastard had to be topping seven feet. 

"This is the third time you've intersected your pathetic little comings and going with my Slide!" he'd snarled, "I am a prince of Asgard and I am on the AllFather's business. How dare you!"

You were newer then to the whole business of time travel, and you pokered up like a stuck turkey, as your Nana always said. "Excuse me, Prince of Whatever Like I Care? You just jacked my Slide to yell at me? I have a client with a very tight schedule who needs this!" You dramatically shook the velvet ring box at the haughty, arrogant, ridiculously handsome prince dude. Granted, you'd just lifted the ring from your client's mom's jewelry box because she wouldn't give him the family diamond to propose to his girlfriend, claiming she'd "lost" it. Small potatoes but you were still building your clientele and-

"Does it appear that I am interested in your pedestrian errand in any way?" he cut you off impatiently, his already broad chest swelling further. "I am Loki of Asgard, and you will-"

"Shit, dude! _Move!" _You dove for the still-lecturing prince and knocked him off his feet just as a nauseatingly gelatinous tentacle snapped out of nowhere with enough force to cut you both in half.

Loki looked up, emerald eyes narrowed as he rolled the two of you expertly to the right as the slimy limb slammed down where you'd been, leaving a sizeable dent in the rock. He looked down at your appalled gaze. "Stay and fight, or cut and run?" He flipped you both into a complicated back handspring to avoid another tentacle punch.

You opened your mouth to say, "Are you fucking nuts? Get us the hell out of here!" But instead, you heard yourself rapidly suggest, "The trajectory of the uh, tentacle thing is three quarters southwest on the Tyson scale of circular movement so if you pop us a foot and a half southeast we're out of the cyclic strike zone and we can cut that slimy son of a bitch right in half with-"

He'd already moved your entwined bodies to the spot you'd suggested and you both pulled daggers that slashed along the full length of the disembodied tentacle as it swept along where you'd just been. Two things happened: first, a volatile spray of a hideous-smelling fluid, as black and sticky as tar and it coated the two of you. Second was a roar so loud and angry that you felt your eardrums bulge ominously. 

“Ekhorn, this is but one of 73 tenacles the Guardian of the Grievous Clan uses to kill anything that walks this moon,” Loki was attempting to sound calm but the effect was ruined by how fast the words were coming out of that pretty mouth of his. “I suggest we Slide away during this very temporary disabling effort, from which the Guardian will be recovering from quite soon.”

You nodded vigorously while trying to recalculate the path of your original Slide, but the Prince of Asgard whisked you away first.

You found yourself on an exquisitely detailed stone terrace overlooking a perfect series of rolling green hills. The sky was a pale lavender and you whirled to Loki. “Vanaheim! I always wanted to come here!” Loki was standing well away from you, still covered in the nauseating black substance with an odor so horrific you could see it radiate off him in a cloud. Next, you could smell yourself and you gagged, “Oh my god! I smell like one of those whales that washed up on the beach- get it off me! We need a shower! And maybe some bleach or something!” You were already yanking off your shirt, which proved how bad you stunk, because you were notoriously shy with men, which was one of two key reasons why you were still a virgin. 

“Come with me,” he agreed, “you are utterly disgusting.” Your mouth opened in outrage- like he smelled any better! But your open mouth made you almost taste the stink and you gagged again.

“Oh… this is so perfect…” you were nearly groaning with delight. Loki had put you in a gigantic marble and stone chamber with a multitude of showerheads that poured water of different colors and scents. The first was a stern, industrial smell that managed to cut through the tarry substance on your bodies. Bodies, because your host had casually waved a hand to remove his clothing and the rest of yours while he pulled you under the water. 

Eyeing him suspiciously, you snarked, “Only one shower in a place this size, huh? Are the Vanir behind on plumbing technique?”

Loki sniffed arrogantly, “Certainly, as if you would ever find a bathing chamber as advanced as this one of Midgard, you ridiculous child! But as it happens…” he turned you around and began rubbing some heavenly-scented foam on your shoulders and back, “the mistress of this estate prefers baths to showers.”

You stiffened, “Shit, are you married?”

He actually stopped washing you to laugh heartily. “Norns, no! The mansion and surrounding villages belong to my mother, Queen Frigga. This is her summer home.”

“Oh…” you twitched your shoulders nervously as he started to soap them again. “She’s uh… not in town, right?”

Taking another of the shower nozzles in hand, he began rinsing the suds from your blissfully clean skin. “No darling, we are the only ones in residence.” Loki stepped a little closer and you could feel his wet chest against your shoulders and the back of your head. One of his impossibly long arms - seriously, he had the reach of a gorilla - slid to the front of you, lightly caressing your breast, squeezing it gently before circling around the peaked nipple.

He felt you stiffen, and his hand stilled. “If you do not wish this, tell me now and I will stop. But I feel certain…” that goddamned hand was moving again, covering your other breast and cupping it, “that you are enjoying it.”

Your treacherous brain was cycling alternately from the odds of you ovulating (6-7% with an error rate of 1%) to why the fuck this Asgardian supermodel was feeling you up. You doubted he was bonded to you by your mutual near-death experience. “Why me?” your lack of filter between brain and mouth had never been more mortifying, “You have to have some hotter than hell girl in every port, right? Why are you-”

With a barely concealed groan, the prince flipped you around to face him fast enough to make you squeak. “Are you always this easily distracted when a man is seducing you because really, this level of inattentiveness is hardly flattering.”

Again, the infuriating lack of filter came into play. “I don’t get seduced a lot, Loki actually never, so this is not something I’ve prepared a social skills plan for, and-” Another irritable sigh, and his mouth was on yours, pressing in firmly and his bulk leaning over you seemed to cast you into shadow. But instead of overwhelming, like most touching was for you, this was… comforting? Arousing? Addictive? But right as you were getting into his kiss and that cool tongue slipping between your lips, he seemed to recollect what you’d just said, pulling his head away but still holding you.

“You are a maiden?” He didn’t seem shocked or disgusted, more curious.

“Uh, yeah. A bit of a medieval description, but I still have my ‘V’ card.”

Loki actually began to chuckle, and the change to those cold, beautiful features was startling. His eyes grew clear, almost translucent. The warmth of his laughter made him stunning. “V card?” he queried, “I’ve not heard this designation before.” 

He was still smiling as his long index finger slid across your collarbones. “Do you want me to stop, maiden?” His voice was lower, like silk rubbing over your nerve endings and making you shiver. 

“Uh…” Oh, damn his mouth was on the pulsing cord in your neck and you could feel your knees buckle. “Y-you’re remembering the part about the zero experience, right?”

This time, the heartless bastard chuckled right in your ear, and the heat of it trickled down your spine. “Darling, I assure you I have enough experience for both of us.”

“I’m sure about that-” you snarked, but the rest was cut off when his mouth descended back on yours and he lifted you to his height, wrapping one of your legs, then the other around his narrow waist. You’d sneaked enough glances in the shower to know Loki was definitely built like the god he’d claimed to be: marble hard muscles moved under sleek skin. Spreading your hands against his shoulder blades, you sighed a little. This guy really was a prince. Possibly a god. Ridiculously beautiful. What the fuck was he doing, going after you? 

Just at the foot of a bed big enough to hold the two of you and at least a dozen other people, Loki pulled his lips from yours and stared down at you sternly.

“I want you,” he gave you a little shake, which was just barely not enough to separate your head from your neck, “not your tedious self-doubts. You mortals can be so-”

This time, you interrupted him by locking lips again, enjoying the feeling of his cool mouth on yours. What the hell. No matter what happened tomorrow, this was too good to miss.

It was the third time he’d had his head between your legs, taking one of your flailing hands and putting it on his thick, glorious hair. You’d gone off like a rocket the first two times, after your initial, “Hey, where are you going?” as Loki slid down your stomach with a devious leer. The feel of his lips and occasional sharp nips from his teeth made you yelp, then moan. This is what everyone talked about - all those silly girls in school who whispered and giggled - but it was so much better. The chilly tinge to his mouth was outrageously good on your hot center, his pointed tongue sliding up and down the little furrow between your swollen lips. 

“Do you know what happens to this pretty part of you when you come?” He was talking with his mouth still against you, so his tongue was flicking at your clitoris with every word. He waited, but when all you managed was a cross between a whimper and something that sounded like a bird tweeting, he chuckled, the vibrations sending electrical surges through your legs. “It swells, so beautifully, becoming plump and full with blood. Heated. So juicy that it takes all my self-control not to bite you.” He did, anyway, and chuckled as this time you yelped. He was pressing his hard cock along your leg, and you found yourself rubbing against it. How did a bit of flesh become so _ hard? _You should have paid more attention in biology class. To your alarm, this time his head moved lower and he stabbed that pointed tongue into your channel, making your spine snap into an arch. That diabolical part of him circled your opening, humming pleasedly and then stabbing back into you again. This time, when you came you weakly pushed against his wide shoulders, holding your legs open like an all-you-can-eat buffet. His unfairly perfect face began sliding closer to yours, looking up at you with a certain malicious pleasure as he kissed along your stomach, heaving ribs and between your breasts, squeezing them together for a moment so he could suck both nipples into his mouth.

“You’re going to kill me.” You groaned it out between pants and the occasional wheeze. Really, you needed to work on your cardio, this was pathetic.

“Your French said it best,” he countered unrepentantly, “la petite mort, the little death from the peak of pleasure. And I shall end you, then resurrect you again for more play with this lovely body. Again, and again…” Loki’s sonorous voice dropped again and you made a clicking noise as you tried to swallow against your dry mouth. “And again.” He kissed you leisurely as if you had all the time in the world for this spectacular bastard to ravish you. Actually, your schedule was looking pretty clear right now, so…

You stifled a yelp as Loki suddenly rolled you over, putting you astride him as he cheekily supported you by firmly holding your breasts. “Can you feel my cock between your slick lips, darling?” His big hands slid down to your hips, fingers wrapping around and pressing on your ass. “Rub along it, there’s a good girl.” He was helping you, your hips slipping and sliding to feel that thick weight of him bumping gently into your clit with each pass. “When you are ready, lift yourself and put me inside you.”

Another clicky noise from your dry mouth. “Loki, I don’t-”

“Shhhh…” his pursed mouth really made those dazzling cheekbones stand out, you thought hazily, like he could cut glass with them. You didn’t know if there was a call for that anywhere as a skill but- “Darling, you’re drifting again,” Loki said patiently, which you suspected was not a quality he had in abundance. “Listen to me.” You forced yourself to look at him. “Put me inside you. Slide down, at your pace. We shall do this slowly.” 

You shakily did as you were told, but just the wide head of his cock made you freeze. “You’re going to split me in two with that thing, I-” your whining was cut off with a gasp as you felt him breach you, pushing easily past that insignificant bit of tissue and you shuddered blissfully, head tipping back a little as he pushed up into you, spreading you impossibly wide. He paused for a moment, one hand smoothing along your shaking thighs and the long fingers of the other lightly - so lightly like a feather’s brush - against your clitoris. It made you tighten against his shaft, enjoying his slightly pained groan, and then loosen them, beginning to slide down further. When he was finally to the top of you, nowhere else to go, you arched your back against the little electric shocks of his head pushing against your cervix.

“Such a good girl,” Loki purred, looking like a self-satisfied panther, “now then, move up and down on me when you’re ready.” His hands slid up to your waist and when you lifted your hips, he helped you, then sending you back down with a little thud. You put your hands on his sculpted chest and began thrusting your hips, occasionally circling to see what felt good and enjoying his growls as your slick squelched rather obscenely against his wet scrotum. “Try this,” he pushed the flat of one hand against the small of your back, and the way you arched pressed his generous cock against a spot- then another spot inside you that made you give a little breathy girl shriek, the kind you used to despise. He began pushing up as you slid down, and you could feel the flush moving up your breasts, over your chest and feeling like you were burning alive inside. “Perfect, darling girl,” Loki said, “ride me now. Ride me and bring yourself off.”

By the time your fourth orgasm hit you like you’d been electrocuted- motionless while electrical impulses cycled up and down your spine, through your cunt and into this insane, gorgeous, god of sex for sure, Loki came too. Growling, planting his feet on the mattress and thrusting up sharply, nearly throwing you off as he swelled impossibly wide inside you, and you shuddered as you felt the head of him- his come so hot when the cock inside you felt cool. Falling forward, you rested your flushed cheek against the comforting chill of his chest. 

“Beautiful,” he breathed out, “such a lovely, good girl.”


	4. "As Soon As You Say Please, Sir..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Traveller tangles with Loki and brings home souvenirs and a homework assignment. And unfulfilled lust.

_“Perfect, darling girl,” Loki said, “ride me now. Ride me and bring yourself off.”_

_By the time your fourth orgasm hit you like you’d been electrocuted- motionless while electrical impulses cycled up and down your spine, through your cunt and into this insane, gorgeous, god of sex for sure, Loki came too. Growling, planting his feet on the mattress and thrusting up sharply, nearly throwing you off as he swelled impossibly wide inside you, and you shuddered as you felt the head of him- his come so hot when the cock inside you felt cool. Falling forward, you rested your flushed cheek against the comforting chill of his chest. _

_“Beautiful,” he breathed out, “such a lovely, good girl...”_

_The present..._

But that was then. You looked at the mischievous god lounging beside you. He was eyeing you with the filthy, knowing expression of a man who knew what you looked like naked. But of course, you thought crossly, he did.

  
Then it hit you and you froze, hand still clutching a bit of toasted bread thingie halfway to your mouth. “Wait. Why did you help me? You hate my guts! And I… I hate you too, of course,” you added the last quickly in case he thought you'd gone all soft and forgiven him for being a total asshole to you.

  
Loki actually had the nerve to look offended. “Do you think Ekhorn, that I would allow you to perish simply because you are outrageously annoying?”

  
Snorting unattractively, you reminded him, “You didn't have an issue stepping over my vomiting body when my Slide got jacked last time.”

His eyes narrowed. “You must forgive me, darling. At the time, I was occupied with absenting myself from my idiot brother and his collection of superhero sycophants-”

  
“Sounds like an 80’s band name,” you snickered.

  
“-and recovering from grievous injury,” Loki ignored you, “so other than trying to keep you from vomiting on my boots, I had little time to spare.”

  
Snatching another tasty morsel off the tray, you chewed it thoughtfully. You'd long ago managed to run a good hundred different timelines in your brain at once, or you'd have gone mad trying to reconcile who was present in what situation and why. But did Loki know? Where was he in this current Timeline? You pulled yourself upright, swaying a little as you carefully put some weight down on your formerly broken leg.

  
With an irritable sigh, he rose to his considerable height and easily swept you off your feet - not an easy thing, you are tall and big-boned like your father - and he carried you back to the plush couch facing the fireplace. “Sit still, you little idiot. You were badly damaged in that incompetent spiral. You need to rest, and we need to speak about the good Captain.”

  
About to angrily struggle back on your feet, that made you sink back into the cushions. “Yeah, how _did_ you know Captain Ass-face was the one who snapped my leg, which by the way hurt like a motherfu-”

  
“How many times have you seen him during your Travels?” Loki interrupted.

“Uh, two,” you said.

  
“Did the Captain look the same each time?” Loki’s expression, which always tended toward smug, was uncharacteristically grim.

  
Frowning, you shook your head. “No, actually. The first time he jacked my slide - the one where you stepped over me like roadkill, thank you very much - he asked me if I was all right before scolding me for cursing.”

  
“And the second?”

  
Your jaw clenched. “The son of a bitch jacked me again! I don't know how he managed it, but he was damned set on keeping me. He…” you hissed, remembering the agony of how he’d splintered your femur. “He told me I was going to beg to be his good girl when he was done with me. He was furious.”

  
Loki’s hand smoothed over your thigh. “How did he look?”

  
“Harder, colder,” You shifted uneasily because his big, cool hand on your skin was beginning to feel really good. “His hair was longer and he had a beard. His suit was black, a leather harness-looking thing and fingerless gloves, which is such a stupid look.” You felt his shoulders shake in a silent chuckle, but Loki was unusually quiet. “I don't know where you are in this Timeline, but there was a point where Captain America was an outlaw, something about flouting the Sekovia Accords? But he was still the straight-arrow guy, rescued his buddies from the Raft…”

“The…?” Loki raised a brow.

  
“It was a high-tech prison in the middle of the ocean,” you supplied, “it was inescapable.” Here, you couldn't resist a snigger, “Supposedly.”

Loki ran one long finger over his upper lip. “You said he was different, darling. How so?”

  
You shuddered. “He was vicious. He knew he was hurting me. I think he was enjoying it.”

Loki rose, pacing the long room. “Are there any other details you can remember?”

  
“I have an eidetic memory, dude. The first time, Captain Lunatic was carrying a dead body, hard to miss that. And an Infinity Stone, I'm not familiar enough with them to know which one. This last time, he had the Stone again. I could feel it's power radiate off him. It's…” you floundered, trying to explain it, “it’s making him sick.”

  
“Exactly.” Loki was serious, as serious as you’d ever seen him. “The fool managed to reset Midgard from the Snap with the rest of his mighty heroes, including my brother, who was sporting a rather impressive paunch. In fact, that is how I was restored, during one of the jumps they accidentally gave me the Tesseract. Who am I to refuse such an eagerly offered gift?” He gave a slow, feral grin, and you fought down your own.

The various shifts in time washed over you like waves. You’d felt Loki’s death at the hands of that twisted purple fuck and mourned for only a moment before a curious little shift in time’s current told you Loki was not gone. Just… holding in a pattern waiting to unfold. And now you knew how. It would be so easy, you thought, to go insane from the constant shifts and alterations in the Timeline. You’d learned long ago to let it all simply wash over you until you knew which line to follow. But now, that idiot lumberjack with a vibranium shield and a fistful of the most powerful, dangerous objects in the universe was stomping right through it all. Running your hands absently through your tangled hair, you asked, “So they restored Midgard’s timeline, but why does Rogers still have the Stones? He was supposed to restore them back to their proper places in the Timeline.”

  
“Like the do-gooding, self-righteous idiot that he is,” Loki snarled, “the Captain became obsessed with righting certain wrongs through history, selfishly selecting the missions he had failed. He is certain that he can restore order to the realm if he completes the missions correctly.”

  
“Oh, my god what an asshole!” you groaned, “Seriously? Did they learn nothing from that nightmare?”

  
“Apparently not, and I do not know why the rest of those noble fools are not stopping him.”

  
Now you were so twitchy with anxiety that you had to stand up and pace, Loki still lounging in that irritatingly elegant way he had. “Maybe … they can’t? He’s blocking them with the power of the Stones? You would think Strange would jump in here, he at least understands Midgard’s Timestream better than anyone on the planet.”

  
Loki sniffed imperiously. “Strange. Such a pompous little man. You think he is the authority?”

  
You tried - and failed - to smother a jeering smile. “Aw, honey. Did you and the good Doctor have a run-in or two over the years? Jealousy is such a petty emotion.”

In an instant, the Prince of I Know Everything And My Hair Is Nicer Than His was in front of you and gripping your chin with one of those big paws of his. “Do not presume to mock your betters, little girl. You might fawn over that fool - but his red cape is brighter than he is.”

  
You pursed your lips, glaring up, and up - Jesus this guy was 70 feet tall! - but refusing to be baited into an argument. As it happened, you and Strange did have a bit of a friendship. You'd run into each other a couple of times, once in the Himilayas sharing a cavern with a ceiling glittering with diamonds during a vicious snowstorm and played existential poker until you developed a splitting headache from the over 257,000 probabilities in your hand of cards. Strange still insisted he’d won that round. He was one of the few you'd run across who was as lacking in social skills as you were. It was hard not to like him just for that reason alone. “Let's not fight, Prince Crankypants,” you finally said, “we've got bigger issues here. Have you seen the damage from his do-gooding fuckery yet?” You could see Loki was dying to continue the spat over who's dick was bigger, his or Strange’s, but you weren't willing to get into it. You still remembered what Thor had said that humiliating morning after and you weren't going to let this turn into an opportunity for Loki to show you his again… You smothered a wistful little sigh. Even though his dick really was magnificent.

“Ekorn, you are drifting off again,” he said impatiently.

  
“Yeah, okay. You were saying?” Loki was staring at you, incredulity in those emerald eyes of his - so pretty, those eyes…

  
“Truly, you try my patience like no other,” he sighed, “you have the attention span of a gnat. But yes, as I was saying, there is an odd dissonance over the Southern Hemisphere. I have seen the sea boil and the tides reverse themselves. Nothing unduly noticeable to the mortals yet, but… this should not be. And it is due to his meddling, I am certain of it.”

  
“Yeah, the backwards tide thingie? We sure as hell have to stop him,” you said firmly, but you felt a jolt of ice shoot up your spine. If whatever that blond dimwit was doing could affect the oceans, the gravitational pull- this was serious shit. “I'm assuming you want me to chat with Captain America’s little super buddies since your relationship isn't all that warm and cozy right now?”

  
Only the corner of his perfectly shaped mouth turned up, but Loki nodded reluctantly. “I must consult with the Scribes of Tauroon, they have been marking history nearly as long as the Nornir have been weaving it. Perhaps there is a pattern here we can follow. I shall leave you to deal with those tedious mortals.” He paused and looked at you skeptically. “I do wonder, darling. It does seem highly unlikely that Stark could manage those computations without … assistance.”

  
You shrugged awkwardly. “I may have dipped into his simulation model a time or two to tweak it, but that was it. The shit with the aether and the Infinity Stones … it's so, I dunno, alien to how you and I work. I couldn't have directed it if I'd wanted to.” The truth was, you'd hovered for weeks around Stark’s ridiculously palatial cabin before figuring out how to sidestep his FRIDAY A.I. long enough to tap in some computations and make it look like another simulation run. When Stark didn't seem to recognize that method, you tiredly returned to create another one, which required crouching outside that goddamn cabin in the middle of the coldest night you could remember before you could slip past his perimeter alarm. You were lucky he’d taken the model as far as he had, you never could have begun to create a simulation. You didn't use the aether to Slide, but once the mode of transportation was set, the pattern was similar. You realized Loki was glaring at you, so you smiled innocently. 

“That didn’t count as drifting off! I was answering your question.”

“It is indeed, mortal, a miracle that you accomplish anything with your incessant dithering, but very well.” Loki paused, and though you refused to believe this god ever had an awkward moment, you stared at each other.

He really was beautiful, you thought wistfully, too beautiful for you. As his dickhead golden retriever of a brother had made clear. “Well,” you cleared your throat, “I’m off.”

One elegant, dark brow rose. “Really, darling? So soon?” Now the air was thick with meaning, and your selfish and unreasonable pussy was ready to start without you. Loki was still lounging on the couch by the massive fireplace, no doubt aware of how the light from the flames made his perfect, pale skin glow.

One of the old voices that would never go away rose in your memory again. _ “Goddamn, you retard, why don’t you ever get it? Do we have to spell it out for you?” _

You shook your head, brain already ticking off the numbers and calculations as your heart turned toward home. “Nope. Gotta go. I’ll let know you when I contact the Spandex Onesie Crew.”

Loki looked as close to surprised as you’d ever seen him, though he gave a reluctant chuckle over your name for the Avengers. But he was frowning as your last view of him elongated and snapped away like a rubber band, and you were gone.

This time, you liked to believe you catapulted gracefully into the Slide. Really, moving through Timestreams was the only place where you felt safe, like you knew what the hell you were doing, that you were (sort of) in control. As if anyone was in control of Time. But you landed perfectly on the deck of your home on the outskirts of “the Mount,” the locals term for Mt Maunganui, Bay of Plenty on the North Island in New Zealand. You had a rather spectacular beach home, where you watched the whales spout off the coast and your people would swim and surf with them. 

“Tangata Haere! And where have you been, my girl?”

Oh, shit. “Hey, Kuia. I brought you something.”

Your Maori grandmother was not impressed. “I could not find you! You dropped out of the slipstream at least five times! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She stood in the middle of your living room, hands on ample hips and scowling at you. After a moment of silent disapproval, “What did you bring me?”

Pulling the giant blue jewel from your pocket, you happily handed it to her. “Pretty, eh?”

Your Kuia gave you an absent kiss as she admired the prism of light sparkling against the wall as the sun shone through the gemstone. “Beautiful, my Tangata. Where did you find it?”

You stifled a snicker, “I stole it from Loki’s summer … uh … winter home? I dunno. One of his homes." You had, in fact, pried the priceless jewel out of the majestic fireplace while Loki was out of the room.

As you expected, your Kuia’s face broke into a thousand tiny wrinkles as she started laughing, “Good girl! Teach the Trickster a thing or two.”

“How do you know him again?” You were heading towards the kitchen, hoping she’d made something for you. 

“Oh,” she flapped one hand dismissively, “I wasn’t always an old lady.”

You froze. _ Oh, jesus let that not mean… _ “You didn’t, uh, oh god, Kuia you never-”

She started laughing, the only women on the North Island with a darker sense of humor than yours. “Ah, girl! I could hear your colon slam shut from over here! No, but he’s been swanning around Midgard for centuries, acting up and getting girls by being prettier than they were.”

Examining your square, strong features in the window’s reflection, you nodded glumly. “That he is. What smells so good? Did you make Rewena bread?”

She was still in the other room, picking up your boots and jacket. “Of course. Did you get your money for handing off the will?”

You were busy cramming a slice of bread in your mouth, so she walked into the kitchen. You were proud of that room. The gleaming granite and wood blended so perfectly together and the entire space seemed to flow out to the massive deck through glass sliders that moved gracefully out of the way on perfect New Zealand days. _ Which, let’s face it, _ you thought, _ is like every day in New Zealand. _You were hovering over the brick oven, a wood-fired contraption built into the wall, you had to install it after remodeling the kitchen since your grandmother refused to cook on your Viking stove.

“Where did you say it was, honey?”

Her dark hand was busily sorting through all the pockets on your jacket, and your eyes narrowed. Taking the inoffensive item of clothing, you shook it out viciously, looking for the envelope full of cash from Tilly. But instead a white card fluttered to the tile. Picking it up, you stared at the graceful symbol of Loki’s horned helmet. “Son of a bitch! He stole my money!”

Long after your Kuia calmed you down and made you finish dinner before leaving for the night, you flopped back and forth in bed, searching for the cool spot on your pillow. It’s not like you were broke without the money. Growing up poor taught you the value of saving way before you discovered how handy your Slides were for finding that which is lost. And how much people were willing to pay for what is lost and found again. But, it was the principle of the thing! Loki, having the fucking gall to steal from _ you. _ And not even catching him!

“You did lift the jewel from him, Tangata.” She was wiping down the counter while you paced back and forth.

“What does that have to do with it?” You sounded sulky, you knew it and you didn’t care.

Her pretty face creased into wrinkles again as she started laughing. “Your father was like this, quick-fingered. And he moved like lightning.”

Your pacing slowed. Kuia didn’t talk about your parents much, it made her sad and then she would mourn that they didn’t see you grow up. Which made you anxious because the tears of others often confused you. “I think if your mother could have had more time with him, she would have taught him to Slide." The hand wiping the granite slowed, "They were always into one sort of mischief or another."

"See?" you pointed out, "I'm not the one who gave you gray hair! They did!" You began humming, pulling her away to dance with you, hoping to make her smile again.

She did, just as you hoped, but also patted your face gently. “It is all right to be sad sometimes, _ e hoa aroha. _ Your heart does not truly crack.” You stopped dancing and let go of her hand.

“Dad’s did. And then he was gone, too.” You forced a smile and kissed her paper-thin cheek. “I don’t cry for anyone.”

Sitting up in bed and staring out at the surf rolling over the white sands of your beach, you huffed and yanked off the shapeless t-shirt you wore to bed. Captain America may have been a psycho bone-snapping douchebag on that second Slide, but goddam, he was hot. Even in the middle of breaking his nose, you'd thought quickly that the beard, the long hair ... it looked fucking amazing. He didn't look as pretty. More rugged. And built! Holy shit, the man was built like a fucking tank and every muscle looked like it was giving birth to more baby muscles and it all looked so good on him.

Putting an arm behind your head, you ran your other hand up the skin of your stomach, between your breasts. 

And what did he mean about you “begging him to be his good girl?” Closing your eyes, you pictured Rogers as something in between the two- not the mean Nomad who hurt you, but not the goody-two-shoes who scolded you for cursing. Because there would be cursing in bed with long-haired Captain America. 

—————————————

_Your back hit the bed as you laughed, watching him stride closer, pulling off the suit but leaving those fingerless gloves on. “You deserve a spanking for running off like that, little girl. Bad little girl.” He thrust one of those thick thighs, heavy with muscle between your own, his knee pushing up against your center, grinning and showing those even white teeth when he found you wet already. One forearm rested by your head as he leaned down to kiss you, the other hand sliding under your ass, the leather of his glove feeling rough against your skin. _

_Steve bit down a bit when you started wiggling against his whiskered mouth on your neck. “Hold still.”_

_“I can’t,” you groaned, hips arching against his hard thigh, “your beard is making me all ticklish.”_

_“Yes,” he retorted, “and my leg is making you wet. So keep rubbing, little girl.” His fingers tightened against your bottom, moving you more briskly along the long line of his leg. Groaning, you slid one hand over his taut, perfect buttocks, squeezing experimentally._

_“So this is America’s ass.”_

_His blond head lifted. “What?”_

_“Nothing.” Wrapping your legs around his thigh, you rubbed harder. Your clit was already swollen and the feel of his lightly furred skin was stimulating it enough to make you come without him even getting in you._

_Chuckling with a decisively evil bent, the Captain held your hips still. “Oh, no. You don’t get to rub one out on my leg without a ‘Please, Sir’.”_

_You froze. “What?”_

_“You heard me.” This time, he was moving you the way he wanted you, pushing your hips up and down against him, looking down at the wet, silky streaks you were leaving on his skin. “Do you want to come, Traveller?”_

_“Is this…” your tongue felt thick, like it couldn’t shape words anymore. “Is this a trick question?”_

_Dipping his head, Steve rested his perfect jawline against yours. “No baby, it’s not. But you have to follow my rules. Just say ‘Please, Sir.’ And I’ll make you come.” You could feel the pulse of his cock, thick and heavy against your thigh. “You have to come at least once before you’ll be wet enough for me to fit inside you. So just …” his biceps bunched along your ribcage as he easily manipulated your lower body. “Say …” He kissed you again, tongue twining with yours and his hard body caging you under him. “... Please, Sir.”_

_He was feeling heavier and heavier on top of you, the heat of his warm, smooth skin making you sweat and your body move slickly under his. His perfect ass was flexing under your greedy fingers and you were going to die. Seriously, your brain was going to fucking explode and drip out of your left nostril if he didn’t let you-_

_“Yeah, okay Sir, could you please-”_

The infuriating ring tone you used for clients was blasting right into your ear, and you woke up with one hand between your legs and just teetering on the edge of an epic orgasm. And then … teetering off. Slapping your pillow over your face, you whined, trying to ignore your phone, but that promising spark in your center was gone.

Kuia - Maori for grandmother

Tangata Haere - Maori for Traveller

e hoa aroha - Maori for dear one


	5. Good Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our girl finds that no good deed goes unpunished.
> 
> Once again, everything I write is 18+. There is dubcon and Dark!Steve in this chapter, please choose accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm cringing at how long it's been since I updated this, but I'm in the mood for Dark Steve as well as Loki Does Whatever The Hell He Wants, so... here you go. Thank you as always for reading.

“Ugh.”

You were sitting in an interrogation room somewhere in the bowels (the literal bowels, or this dump had a problem with their plumbing) of Stark Tower. At least these assholes didn’t have the nerve - or excuse - to handcuff you to the table. Yet.

Okay, just dropping into Tony Stark’s private office in the Tower was a little showy. But repeated efforts to get a meeting with America’s Greatest Heroes - and yes, you’d used your fingers to make the insulting little quotation marks - went nowhere. Even when you specifically clarified “It involves two words that start with I and S.” Nothing. “Okay, it rhymes with 'Vicinity Bones'?” They escorted you out of the lobby. So what the hell else were you supposed to do?

But really, these people had no sense of humor at all.

Especially the guy seating himself on the other side of the table. Steve Rogers - at this point in time, anyway - still looked pretty good. Blond hair neatly combed, clean-shaven, and not crazy. Not completely, anyway.

“Are you uncomfortable, Miss, ah...?” Yep, he sounded as prissy as the first time you’d seen him in the Slide, carrying that dead body and one of the Infinity Stones. You tilted your head, watching him. He remembered you, but he wasn’t sure from where. Well, that was insulting, or he just jacked Travellers right and left while he was stomping through Time.

Smiling pleasantly, you offered your hand. “Tangata Haere.”

He didn’t take it. “That’s an interesting name.”

You nodded politely, still smiling. There was silence, but you continued to stare at him, grin fixed on your face. You knew it looked creepy, which was precisely why you were doing it.

Steve Rogers cleared his throat. “What ah, what language is that?”

“Maori,” you answered affably. If he was going to be irritating, you were going to be irritating. Captain Super Hot and Possibly Psycho _really_ didn’t remember you? If there was memory fuckery happening here, it was worse than you and Loki feared.

“Why the hell is Rogers screwing around?” Tony said crossly, watching the exchange through the two-way mirror that the girl had used to braid her long, thick hair earlier, grinning at her invisible observers with a saucy wink.

The Black Widow had her arms crossed and a pursed mouth. “She’s baiting him.”

Tony turned to look at her, absently itching his goatee. “You think we should swoop in before he goes full-on crazy? She probably thinks he’s still the Chill Avenger.”

“Let’s see what she does when Cap goes dark on her,” Natasha said unsympathetically. “She looks pretty sturdy. What do the readings say?”

“There’s no Pym Particles, no signature trace of anything at all that we recognize,” he said irritably. Things that Tony did not know always made him irritable. The uncomfortable metal chair the girl was sitting on was busy spewing out reams of data - everything from her heartrate to any chemical traces that might explain how, with a light displacement of air, she’d just winked into existence in Tony’s office, making him shriek like a girl. It was the shriek he was really holding against her.

“What were you planning when you popped into Tony’s office, Tangata Haere from New Zealand?” Steve was perversely enjoying the conversation, even though her deliberate insolence was stoking his fury. Sitting there, smirking at him as if this was all just a joke to her.

_ I could wipe that smile off her face by shoving my cock down her throat. _

The sudden thought held him still, primarily because it didn’t shock him. It should have, but there was a part of Steve Rogers that could vividly picture how it would look - the smirking girl on her knees, eyes streaming tears as she struggled to suck him.

“You’re not a hospitable group, Captain Grumpy.” You could see his eyes darken, the clear blue went muddy, something swirling there that was… angry? Sexual? Angrily sexual? Whatever it was, it should not be turning you on as much as it was. “I was trying to be helpful and share some weird shit you don’t want happening on your watch.”

“And what would that be?” Steve was leaning forward, elbows on the table and hands linked together. He had an amused, condescending smile on his perfectly sculpted face.

Your head tilted thoughtfully. “I’d think you’d know based on your experience in the Quantum Realm, that fucking around with the timeline is a really bad idea. And yet here you are, Captain Handsome, stomping those bigass - what size shoe do you wear, like a 12? - through all those delicate strands. You think your personal crusade is immune?”

Now his entire face had darkened to stormcloud-level threatening. “What are you talking about?”

You leaned forward, almost nose to nose even though you knew it was a galactically stupid thing to do, but this giant, gorgeous bastard was really pissing you off. “You’re using the-”

There was a searing flash of violet and when their vision cleared, Natasha and Tony found that the interrogation room was empty. He hammered his fists against the glass. “How did she do that!” Now he was really, _ really _irritable.

When you slammed down on a pile of - thankfully - soft pine needles, you groaned, “No good deed goes unpunished.” Standing above you was not the chino and pressed-shirt wearing Steve Rogers. And thankfully, not yet the bearded lunatic version either. “Is there a reason you keep throwing me on the ground, Captain I’ll Fuck You In Half? Because snapping my femur - the strongest bone in the human body I’ll have you know - seems hostile enough! What have I ever done to you?”

Not Pleasant Steve Rogers was looking down at you, he was wearing a blue t-shirt that stretched across his exquisitely defined chest in a flattering manner and jeans that fit well enough that you almost felt like you should thank him for wearing them. Longer blond hair, no beard yet. “You were being a bad girl, Tangata.” His voice was low and stern. 

_ Ooooo, Daddy Steve, _ you thought, then instantly wanted to slap the back of your own head for it. 

“I couldn’t have you blurting all that out in front of Tony and past me-”

“Current you,” you interrupted.

“What?” Steve was thrown off track and frowned at you.

“Current you,” you prompted. “You are future you, who went into current you’s space to kidnap me yet again.” At his look of incomprehension, you smiled encouragingly. “Don’t try to puzzle that one out. It’ll just drive you batshit nuts. But you were saying?”

Suddenly, his booted foot was in the center of your chest and America’s First Avenger was leaning just enough of his considerable muscle bulk down on you to knock all the air out of your lungs in one big ‘whoosh!’ “Time to listen, little girl. I know you’ve seen me at least twice. I know you broke my nose hard enough that I had to re-break it just to set it again. And-”

“Your dick?” you offered helpfully, “How’s the dick? Because I know that had to- HURK!” Now he was leaning hard enough that your sternum was making an ominous creaking sound. 

“YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?” he roared, looking a lot more now like Deranged Steve, “I’m trying to save thousands of lives and you’re making a joke about my COCK?” He starred down at your beet-red face for a while before pulling his foot back, watching you roll to the side and cough weakly. "Get up." 

You found yourself yanked upright and then- oh fuck, you just got your breath back!- thrown over Captain Pissed-off Daddy's ludicrously broad shoulder. “Dude, seriously,” you croaked, “can we just finish a conversation without you manhandling me?”

“Shut up.” 

His legs were eating up the distance toward a cabin with alarming speed. You were bouncing off his hugely muscled shoulder, but at least the bulk cushioned your battered ribcage. Steve kicked open the door and hauled you inside, dumping you like a sack of potatoes on the couch. 

“Oh, thank god,” you groaned, “can you give me a moment to catch my breath before you turn into Captain Asshole again?”

He was standing over you, his bulk sending you into shadow even with the light streaming in through the windows. Arms folded, gorgeously sculpted features hard, like carved in granite. “Why don’t we start with why you showed up in Tony’s office today?”

“Can I have a glass of water first?”

It took some time, but you went through where you’d seen him before and why you’d tried to reach the Avengers. You left Loki out of it - that was an entirely different story and not one you thought would encourage any trust. “So Captain Good Intentions, the seas are boiling and you’ve created a gravitational rift. You have to stop whatever it is you’re doing.”

He rubbed a thumb over those full lips of his and you tried not to stare. “How can you be certain you’re not doing it? How many other Travellers are there? People like you?”

You tried not to roll your eyes, but really… “Because I’m not dragging dead bodies around and randomly pulling an Infinity Stone out of my pocket like it’s a roll of cash?”

A huge hand ended up on your throat, sliding up and down while his calloused fingers rasped over the thin skin there. 

The late afternoon sun lit his face, showing off his perfect cheekbones, the dark brows and strong jaw. You sighed, why are the beautiful ones always crazy? 

“Answer the question. How many others are there like you?”

You wanted to preen and answer back with something smartass like “There are no others like me,” but you were pretty sure that huge paw of his would start tightening around your neck. “I don’t know,” you confessed, “I’ve only run into 3-4 others in the Slide before, but none of them are from Midgard - I mean, Earth. Dr. Strange can do it, I know.”

“So he can back up what you’re saying here?” Steve’s eyes were on the long column of your throat, thumb stroking back and forth.

You thought of the odd wizard, his terrible social skills, and his inability to interact with others. Just like you. “Yeah, probably. We don’t work together, but we’ve hung out. So, back to you and your wildly overreaching ambitions, can you see what you’re doing to the timestream? You have to stop this! Everything you fought to save after the Snap can go bye-bye just as fast, so you have to cut this shit out because I’ve got tickets to see the Wiggles reunion in Sydney next week.”

The gigantic blond was ignoring you, it was pretty clear. “I can’t stop. I won’t. I have … there’s three more monsters I have to take out. Just three, and then Earth will be safe.” His gaze turned on you, and you nearly cringed at the intensity there. “Not until the Earth is free of them forever.” His grip loosened as his fingers slid down to rest between your breasts. “And you, pretty Tangata Haere of New Zealand, are going to help me.” 

So this is where you’d be all, “Fuck you, Steve Rogers I ain’t doing shit!” and he’d be all, “Oh yes you are, little girl!” But instead, you figured it was a great time to Slide the fuck right out of there. Except, you didn’t. As one hand easily encompassed one of your breasts - no easy feat because you took after your Kuia and you’d been sporting a D cup by the time you turned sixteen - you closed your eyes and tried again, picturing the deck of your home and the white sand of the Mount, and factoring in the wind blowing northwest that day and… 

Nothing. _ Fuck! _

His mouth was traveling the same path of his hand on your skin, but he looked up long enough to smile unkindly. “Trying to go somewhere, doll? That’s not happening.”

“Wh- what are you doing?” you gritted out. Trying to Slide was sending a shock up your spine that felt like someone jammed a taser up your backside. 

Both of his hands were clamping down on your breasts now, nudged out of your sports bra which was somewhere over your shoulders. “I don’t know how you do - a Slide, did you call it? But it’s not more powerful than an Infinity Stone. And you’ll stay in this cabin as long as I decide to keep you here.” 

There was plenty you wanted to say to that- like the Infinity Stones weren’t meant to be used for something as dumb as an electric fence and they were making him sicker and sicker and also, that his mouth latching around your nipple with a long, luxurious suckling movement was really fucking distracting, and… Then this beautiful, blond lunatic’s mouth was on yours and anything you’d planned to say was long gone.

Somehow, you were on a stupidly enormous bed and you were naked without quite being aware of how you got there. But you were quite clear on the fact that Captain I’m Fucking Amazing With My Tongue was between your legs, those colossal shoulders holding your thighs wide and arms bulging with muscle were looped over them. His stubbly chin felt amazing as he rasped it down the slim furrow of your center and gleefully dug it into your opening, growling as you yelped. White teeth fastened on to one of your swelling lips and he gave it a playful tug. “Be still,” he warned, licking your slick off his lips, “I’m going to lick this pussy until you agree that it’s mine.”

You opened your mouth to object, but the only thing that came out was some helpless little whine as he dove in again and you weakly tried pushing against his shoulders. That made his pause long enough to yank your hands up to the headboard and use your sports bra to tie them there. “I was going to just start with one finger,” Steve looked at you coldly, “but since you think you’re going to be a bad girl and disobey your Captain’s orders, you’re ready for two.” He held up the two aforementioned fingers and you squealed with alarm. They were as thick and long as the rest of him and you watched as he slid them along your wet center and pushed them inside you. “Well, what a sweet surprise you turned out to be,” he groaned, “juicy-” he gave an especially hard push and you cringed at the obscene sounding squelch, “-and squeezing my hand. You’re gonna be heaven on my cock, I can tell.” His thick digits were fluttering inside you, exploring your walls, stroking and scratching to find all your soft spots- the sensitive places that made you yelp, try to pull against and when his thumb came down on your clitoris and a third finger joined the other two, you were dragged kicking and screaming into your first orgasm. Your thighs ached from being pulled apart so wide, but he didn’t give you a second as his hips settled between yours and you got your first, appalled view of his cock. 

Oh, it was a cock. No penis, or member or organ or whatever the fuck the romance novels called it, this was a cock. And it was huge and throbbing and alarmingly wide. “Hey, wait, Captain Porn Star, you can’t put that inside me, that’s-” 

This was a mistake, because with a resounding rip, your t-shirt was in pieces, and one of them tired around your head and between your teeth. “Each time you talk back to me in the future,” Steve’s voice was even lower and ripe with a terrible sort of promise, “I will slap this pussy five times. And when you’re as wet as you are, sweetheart, that’s gonna sting.” He chuckled, and then you felt the broad head of his cock at your opening and your eyes flew wide open. Steve stared down as he pushed inside of you, groaning in pleasure. “Shit, doll…” his voice was a rasp now, and he shoved harder, “just getting inside you is…” He threw back his head, the strong column of his neck rippling as he swallowed convulsively. “I could live inside you, so snug and hot- goddamn, you’re on fire, little girl!”

You felt like every part of your insides moved over to make room for him and he kept cramming himself up your channel until the weight of his scrotum rested against you. He was intrusive, so big that there wasn’t room to even think of anything else, much less accommodate it. You moaned a little through the gag as one fingertip stroked over the strained entrance to your cunt, your thighs trembling as you struggled to loosen up enough to make this gigantic … _ thing _ not hurt so much. When Steve’s finger moved lazily to your clit and begin circling, his hips began moving too. Pulling out slowly, he gloated, “I can feel your pussy sucking on me, trying to keep me inside you. This perfect cunt is mine.” Pushing back in, he looked up, grinning at you and holding your chin, forcing you to look back. “Don’t close your eyes, I want you to see who’s fucking you. Who owns you.” The balance of hurt to arousal was teetering, and you could feel yourself getting wetter to help him move faster inside you. He was inside you - it felt like everywhere inside you - and you could barely breathe. And with his avid gaze, there was nowhere to hide. Your eyes were watering with the intensity of his thrusts and Steve gave an alarmingly animalistic growl, going back on his knees, his perfect ass resting on his heels and arms looping around your knees again, spreading you wider as he began slamming into you with a greedy intensity. Your wrists were aching, arms pulled and pushed along with the rest of your body and all you could do was try to absorb the thrust and pull of him. 

“You’re going to come with me, with your Captain,” Steve panted. You knew he was watching your breasts bounce wildly with the force of his movement inside you and he gave you a shamelessly leering grin. Licking two fingers, he began patting your poor, swollen clitoris with them, lightly at first but the sting was increasing with the force of his pats, and then slaps as he groaned again. “Come now like a good little girl and I won’t slap this tasty clit as hard as it deserves. You’ve got five seconds, doll. C’mon, be a good girl for your Captain. I want to feel you strangle my cock. Come _ on.” _

A dirty talker. Fucking Captain America was a dirty talker, you raged internally. You were so screwed. Extra screwed, more than the porn star worthy screwing you were getting now because dirty talk- “Mmmmm…” you moaned through the gag and your back arched, instinctively trying to move away from those fingers currently batting your clit back and forth and when he pushed one hand under your ass and pressed on the base of your spine, the movement was enough to push your most sensitive spot right against the head of his cock, which shoved against it in a long, deliciously dirty stroke and you came. Right then. Actually, twice because it was fucking unbelievable and there was no defense against it. And right as you were clamping down the second time, Steve’s cock was swelling and he roared this time as the combination made him fill you, heated and painfully full and leaking between the two of you and slicking along your thighs.

When you came to, he was lying heavily on top of you, still panting as well, one hand absently stroking through your tangled hair. Pulling out slowly as you both groaned, Steve went up on his knees and pushed his hips toward you as he pulled off your gag. “Suck me clean like a good girl.” Without thinking your mouth opened obediently and you did as you were told, sucking along a cock that wasn’t much smaller flaccid as it was engorged. When you licked your lips when he pulled free, Captain Yes, Mine Is The Biggest groaned again. “Shit, you gotta stop that, doll. You’re making me hard again.” Laughing at your look of alarm, he rose to get a cloth to clean you, too, admiring his come coating your lips and thighs.

When he was finally asleep, breathing heavily into your ear, you stared up at the shadows dancing across the ceiling. _ And just how the fuck do I get out of this? _  
  



End file.
